


Marzipan

by Zhie



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bad Cooking, Bunniverse, Fluff, Multi, Valinor but you could honestly pretend this is happening anywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 10:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: Erestor finally finds food he can make.Sort of.Glorfindel successfully pretends he does not have trouble seeing things.Almost.Fingon is, as always, Fingon.Because it's good to be the king.





	Marzipan

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by AnnEllspethRaven <3

###  Marzipan

“I have amazing news to share,” announced Fingon as he came into the bedroom.  Glorfindel was already reclining against a heap of pillows gathered from all across the bed and reading a book on the Rohirric languages. Hastily, he removed and hid his glasses as Fingon sat down.  “I taught Erestor how to make a thing that is edible.”  He had a tray of candy in one hand.  “Nothing burned, nothing separated, and nothing has a weird odor.”

“Oh?  I never thought anyone was going to be able to teach him how to cook.”

“No cooking involved,” said Fingon.  He held the tray out to Glorfindel.  “Marzipan.”

“Oh… right.”  Glorfindel squinted a little to see the candies on the tray.  “That is what the two of you have been working on for the last two days.”

“He is finishing the last of it.  He does a really nice job of making them look like real fruit.  All I can do is roll them into balls and make fake oranges and apples.  He made little bananas and tiny bunches of grapes and all sorts of miniature things.  I rolled some of the pieces and dipped them in chocolate.”  Fingon picked up one of the pieces and held it up for Glorfindel to bite into.  

“These are delicious,” commended Glorfindel.  “Maybe I will sneak down and congratulate Erestor.”

“He was almost done, and then he was going to join us up here,” said Fingon as he fed the other half of the candy to Glorfindel.  “Just enough time for you to put those adorable spectacles back on so that you can see the details of his work.”

“I hate these things,” grumbled Glorfindel and he brought the eyewear back out from the hiding place under his pillow pile.  He looked down at them as he held them, knowing what they were despite the haze of his vision.  “They make me look ugly.  I wish I was normal.”

“Do you have any idea how fucking adorable you look with these on?”  Fingon set the tray aside and took the glasses out of Glorfindel’s hands and carefully perched them back onto Glorfindel’s nose.  “You are incredibly handsome, with or without these,” said Fingon as he tapped the bridge of the glasses with one finger.  “I know you usually have very plain looking ones, but have you ever considered having the edges painted a different color?”

“Why would I do that?” wondered Glorfindel.

“Think of these as an accessory,” suggested Fingon.  “You paint such beautiful pictures.  I would wager that you could take one of the pairs you have and detail them with gorgeous little images.  You could wear your art.”

“And then have to answer ‘what are those things on your face’ questions,” grumbled Glorfindel.  “Just like Maedhros hides his lack of a hand, I would prefer as few people as possible know of my disability.”  Fingon sighed upon hearing Glorfindel’s words and looked away.  Glorfindel frowned.  “It might not be that extreme, but I do have a certain image of myself in my head, and it never has these horrible things as part of it.”

Before Fingon could debate the topic further, he heard his name called with great uncertainty.  “Uh oh…”  Fingon listened another moment until a second summons was heard.  “Be right there!” he shouted.  “You look super adorable,” he added as he kissed Glorfindel’s nose.  “I hope you reconsider.”  The tray was set upon the desk before he went back down the stairs.  Glorfindel rolled back the blankets and followed Fingon’s path, entering the kitchen as Fingon was heard to demand, “What did you DO, Eres?”

“It just happened.”  Erestor tilted the bowl one way and then the other.  A soupy mixture moved about.  “I was making them, and then I noticed they were not holding shape, and--”

“Did you add anything?  Water, egg, honey--”

“No! You told me not to.  I left it alone.  I was just molding more candy.  That was it!”   
  


“Did you heat it?”  Fingon gave the stove an accusational glare.  “Did you mix it really fast?”

“I was just doing what we were doing when you were here.  I called you as soon as I realized something was wrong.  Perhaps if we added-”

“No.  This is ruined.”  Fingon sighed as Erestor pouted.  “There is not much left, so it is not a great loss.  Just… how?  I want to know how.”  He sloshed the mess around a bit more, and looked up when he heard a snicker.  “You stay out of this,” he warned Glorfindel.

“Maybe we could use it as a filling with the chocolate,” suggested Erestor.

Fingon gave the chocolate a passing glance, and then walked over to scrutinize it.  “What happened here?” He took hold of a spoon in the chocolate and lifted it up - spoon, bowl, and hardened chocolate within - in one go.  “What did you do to this?” he asked with the bowl aloft and Glorfindel doubled over in laughter.  “Did you take it out of the hot water or stop stirring it?”

 

Erestor shook his head.  “I did everything you told me to,” he answered.  He bowed his head.  “Sorry I ruined it.  I ruin everything in this room.”

With a little groan, Fingon set the chocolate mass back down and left the bowl of runny marzipan on an empty spot on the table before he approached Erestor and put his arms around him.  “You just need a kitchen chaperone.”

“I did caution you when you left me here all alone,” reminded Erestor after receiving a kiss from Fingon.

“Noted.”  Fingon slid his arms away and looked at the miniature edible sculptures.  “You did manage to make a lot of them before whatever happened happened.”

“Plus the ones I packaged for you to send to Ereinion,” added Erestor.  He migrated over to Glorfindel, who offered a supportive embrace after he stopped chuckling.  “Even when I just have to roll things into balls, still I fail.”

“The one I ate tasted good,” said Glorfindel.  Something caught his eye, and he looked at Erestor’s hair, just over his ears.  

“Something the matter?” asked Erestor.

“No, I just… I never noticed that you have silver strands in your hair,” Glorfindel admitted.

“I have sad news for you.  That started not long after we reached Valinor.”

“I know.  I mean, I know you mentioned it, but…”  Glorfindel reached out and lifted some of the stragglers that escaped from Erestor’s ponytail.  “I guess I never really saw the extent of it.”

“I have thought about dyeing it,” said Erestor.  “I vaguely remember you once suggested you wanted to see me with red hair--”

“Oh, no.  I mean, yes, I did suggest that, and maybe someday that could be interesting, but no, I think you should leave it.  If you want to do that.  It looks… good. Dignified or something… the word eludes me at the moment,” said Glorfindel.

Erestor chuckled.  “The word you search for is ‘ancient’.”

“Oh, stop,” said Fingon as Glorfindel blushed.  “For years, I tried to get a similar look by weaving metallic threads into my braids.  Erestor’s hair is natural, and I will admit, I am a little jealous.  On the other hand, this thing I have going on now is very low maintenance and makes me wonder why I was spending so much time with that braiding nonsense.  Also, if red hair ever happens, I require a warning ahead of time,” he added. “Non-negotiable.”

“Are these new glasses?” asked Erestor, who had given Glorfindel’s spectacles more than a passing glance.

Glorfindel bit his lip and shook his head.  “Just a pair I acquired about three or four years ago.  Faelion thought they were too…”

“Masculine?” guessed Erestor as he reached up to adjust them.  The frames were more squared off and less rounded than what Glorfindel normally used for reading, and the lenses were slightly larger.

Glorfindel nodded.  “He made me put them away and promise to get rid of them, but I obviously never did.  Strangely enough, they were one of the things I had with me the night I left him.  I just thought these might look better with the shorter hair… and I see out of them better than the older ones I still had here.”

Erestor frowned at this new information, while Fingon crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.  “Remind me again why I did not punch that bastard when I had the chance?” asked Fingon.

“Taking the high road or something like that,” said Erestor over his shoulder before he looked back at Glorfindel.  “This pair really suits you, no matter what your hair looks like.  They are just very… you.”

Glorfindel smiled and mumbled his thanks before he rewarded Erestor’s compliments with a kiss.  “Fingon suggested that I repaint one of the old pairs I have and make them more personal.”

“That is a great idea,” agreed Erestor.  “Maybe tomorrow we could have a decorating day.  You can paint your glasses, and I can decorate the cookies Fingon is making in the morning.”

“I would normally say, great family idea, but with the way things are going, the cookies will end up painted and inedible,” said Fingon.

“I am not that bad,” defended Erestor.  “I know the difference between icing and paint.”

“But why take chances?” asked Fingon as he started to clean up the kitchen.  “What we could do tomorrow morning is start with painting, Glorfindel with the glasses and us with the cards we were going to send to Ereinion and Elrond and whomever else is getting an ‘oops, sorry we never write, here is candy and cookies, forgive us’ greeting card.  Then, we can all bake and decorate cookies in the afternoon.”

“That sounds like fun,” said Glorfindel.  “I could make the frosting in the morning so that everything is ready to go when we finish painting.”

“You need to make enough for eight dozen cookies,” Fingon informed him as he scraped the ruined portion of marzipan into the trash bin.

“Noted,” said Glorfindel.

“Can you make extra frosting?” asked Erestor, who still had Glorfindel in a loose embrace.

“I can.  Why?”

“For not-cookie decorating,” Erestor said. 

“Not-cookie… oh,” realized Fingon before he needed to be told.

“Edible tattoos,” offered Erestor.

“That is- did you just make that up?” asked Fingon as he approached with a little plate of treats.  When Erestor nodded, Fingon kissed at Erestor’s neck.  “That is adorable, and you are adorable, and Glorfindel is adorable, and these are also adorable,” he said as he looked down at the plate.

“Oh, my… well, obviously the tiny apples are not really apples, but the strawberries and the raspberries look like actual berries,” said Glorfindel as he picked up a piece of marzipan.  “You did an amazing job, Erestor!”

“Hopefully they taste as good as they look,” Erestor said.

Glorfindel bit into the tiny lemon he had selected and smiled.  “Perfect.”

“Really?”

Glorfindel nodded and popped the rest into his mouth.  “Can we finish cleaning up in here later?  I know you like to keep the kitchen tidy, but I have felt a little lonely tonight, and I think we should take the rest of these upstairs with a bottle of wine and call it a day.”

“I will leave the kitchen be if you promise to leave the glasses on until we are ready to turn in,” said Fingon as he dropped the dishrag onto the counter.

“Deal,” said Glorfindel.

“This is fantastic.  Perfect end to the evening, and I was not made to agree to anything,” said Erestor as he moved away from Glorfindel.  He gave Fingon a peck on the cheek on his way to the lower level to fetch a bottle of wine.

“Oh, that was because we silently agreed for you that you are not allowed to work alone in the kitchen anymore,” called Fingon down to the cellar.  “Also non-negotiable.”

Erestor frowned as he emerged from the basement.  “That was not my fault.  I have no idea how everything just fell apart like that.”

“I blame Morgoth,” offered Fingon.  

“How can that be a valid-”

“Wait.  I think I know how it works,” spoke up Glorfindel.  “Elves are really good cooks, right?  I cook well, Káno cooks well, our fathers all cook well - was Tata a good cook?” prodded Glorfindel.

“Yesh…” answered Erestor after a pause.

“There you go.”  Glorfindel picked up a piece of marzipan and held it out for Erestor to eat.  “You, my dear, are not entirely Eldarin, and therefore, genetically predisposed not to have the cooking trait.  Ergo, we can all blame Morgoth.”

Erestor took the piece of candy from Glorfindel.  “Or maybe, I am just a terrible cook, because, let’s think about this.  If I was a good cook, I would end up using all sorts of things you hate.  Such as, cabbage--”

“Ew. Why would you do that?” complained Glorfindel.

“Or goat cheese,” Erestor added.

“Even worse,” Glorfindel said as he wrinkled his nose.

“Hmm… I wonder if I could use goat cheese in a red cabbage roll,” Fingon mused to himself.

Glorfindel shot a dirty look at Fingon.  “Stop that.”

“On my honor, I swear I shall not attempt any kitchen experiments, and to only decorate candy and cookies and the like while under direct supervision,” said Erestor with his hand raised and palm facing them as if making a true oath.  

“And no cabbage,” cautioned Glorfindel.  “Or goat cheese.”

Before Erestor could answer, Fingon further considered, “I bet I could use goat cheese in a cheesecake.”

“That is blasphemous and I never want to hear that talk uttered in my presence ever again,” Glorfindel warned.

Fingon smiled.  “You are awfully adorable when you are demanding.”

“In that case…”  Glorfindel picked up the tray he and Erestor had been grazing from.  “Bedroom.  Both of you.  Now.”  On his way out of the room, he called out to them, “Bring strawberries if we have them!”

Still grinning, Fingon turned to Erestor.  “You heard the man.”  He put an arm around Erestor and eased him to the landing, giving him a light swat on the rear in order to hurry their ascent of the stairway.


End file.
